Writing A Better Dream
by deltakat
Summary: A collection of oneshots from our livejournal. Unrelated, for the most part.
1. Penguins

Disclaimer; We don't own _Inception_.

Penguins

Eames is watching Arthur sleep.

It's about the only thing he can do with Arthur sleeping on his arm, but he enjoys it and doesn't quite mind the numb tingling it leaves in his elbow. Anyway, he loves the way Arthur looks in his sleep, hair dark and curly as it falls in his face, free of the usual blanket of gel it's buried under, and the way the tension eases out of his face. And Eames loves the way Arthur moves in his sleep, rolling over and curling into a ball and burrowing into Eames' side.

As creepy as Arthur says it is to wake up to, Eames can't help it. He's trapped there and Arthur's the most adorable sleeper he's ever seen. And normally, Eames is happy with just laying there, watching Arthur sleep. The only problem is that he has a plan for the day, and that plan involves Arthur being awake and in a good mood, with a dash of luck sprinkled in for good measure.

Of course, the odds are _always_ in his favor.

Carefully, he leans over and kisses Arthur. The point man moans, rolling over, but Eames just grins and kisses the back of his neck, and his cheek, and his shoulder blades, until finally Arthur rolls over and glares sleepily at him.

"Eames," he says, and his tone promises worlds of pain for this offense, "there had better be a good reason that you woke me up at -" he checks the clock. "-seven thirty in the morning."

Eames grins, pushing himself up. "We're normally awake and at the workshop by five," he points out, throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress and sliding open the top drawer of his nightstand. He can't see Arthur anymore, but the force of the glare on his back doesn't lessen.

"It's Sunday," Arthur informs him, and Eames doesn't argue, as much as he'd like to. After all, he needs Arthur in a good, mood and, as Arthur goes, this is a good mood. Especially for a Sunday morning.

"Did you know," Eames says conversationally, ruffling through the drawer even though he had what he wanted, "that when a penguin finds a mate, they never hook up with another penguin again?"

Arthur snorted. "I've never heard it put quite that way before," he replies, and Eames can tell he's running a hand over his face. "You didn't wake me up for that," Arthur continues, irritation obvious. Eames grins, shoving the drawer closed and rolling back into bed.

"No," he agrees, and opens his hand. "I woke you up for this."

Arthur blinks, looking down at the small silver band resting on Eames' palm, then at Eames, and then back at the ring. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and then settles for staring at Eames.

Eames grins, a good deal more nervous than he had been a few moments before. "Be my penguin?" he asks, and the words sound ridiculous even to his own ears. Arthur is silent, eyes narrowing slightly as they go through the motions of searching for something in Eames' face.

And then he smiles.


	2. Promise Me

Disclaimer; We don't own _Inception_. Based upon the Kill Hannah song of the same name.

Promise Me

Arthur is leaving.

Eames can tell, because he knows Arthur and he knows that Arthur won't let himself be pulled in by vague promises and obvious lies anymore. So he watches Arthur packing his bags – well, _bag_, really – and he says nothing, because they both know that Eames can't give Arthur what he needs. He can love him, yes. He can save and fuck and need him with every fiber of his being. But he doesn't trust Arthur, and Arthur can't trust him, because in their line of work connections are temporary and relationships can't last, because trust is really all they have to them. And as much as Eames may love Arthur, he doesn't trust Arthur anymore than he trusts himself, and he's too tired of them fighting over every little detail.

He knows that letting Arthur walk out of his life now will be the biggest mistake he's ever made. But he also knows that it's too late to try and stop him. He's always too late to stop them.

He watches Arthur sling his bag over his shoulder, lets his eyes follow him across the room to the door. _I love you,_ he wants to say. _I don't want this to be the end of it._

Instead he says, "Safe travels, darling," and he knows that Arthur got the message anyway, because he pauses and looks back.

"And you," he replies, and Eames takes a moment to memorize his face this last time, before he vanishes into the bustling streets of midday London. _Take me with you,_ he begs, silent, and Arthur nods, imperceptibly.

_I will._

And then he's gone, and Eames knows they won't be seeing each other again.


End file.
